


Buckys Final Letter

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Future Steve/Bucky, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt No Comfort, I Love You, Implied Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, My First Fanfic, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Old!Steve is an imposter, One-Sided Attraction, Other, POV Bucky Barnes, Please Don't Hate Me, Post-Canon, Quote: I'm with you 'til the end of the line, Regret, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve was kidnapped by Hydra, Stucky - Freeform, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Unrequited Love, We dont actually see Steve, bucky loves steve, how could he leave bucky like that, steve loves bucky, steve rogers is an idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I don't have another hundred years left in me. I just can't do it. I'm not going to sit here and watch you die from the long life you lived without me. I don't want to see pictures or hear the stories. I can't have another person tell me it was the Happy Ending you deserved."Bucky Writes his Suicide Note as a letter to Steve.Steve is not who we think he is.Basically, Old Steve is an imposter.Will Bucky ever be reunited with Steve? Will they get to have a Happy Ending?-Anne
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 20
Kudos: 104





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is My first ever Fanfic and I don't know if anyone will ever see it, or if it's even any good. (Not to be confused with my dear friend Luna's first fic, whom I share an account with) Comments and Kudos to let me know what you think would be amazing. I would love to know your thoughts! 
> 
> Warning: This focuses on suicidal thoughts and implied Suicide, if these may be harmful to you please do not read. 
> 
> Help is available, if you or a loved one are having suicidal thoughts please talk to someone. You can call National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Thank you for reading!

You once told me I was worth it. 

You told me you would be with me at the end of the line. 

But, I guess things change. 

I can't blame you, when given the options you were, most would do the exact same. I mean, a long, happy life with a wonderful woman is a lot better than I could have given you. It's better than most could hope for. 

What I'm trying to say is, I understand. You saw a chance for happiness and you took it. I have far too much baggage, I am too broken. You shouldn't have to put up with me. I am not who I was. Hell, a couple of years ago I couldn't have told you who I was. I was the asset, the creature in the night. I was known only in whispers, far worse than the boogie man. You saved me from that life. In a way, you always saved me, didn't you? 

You deserve all the happiness in the world, Steve. I hope she gave you that. I hope she gave you a warm home, a family, and a stable, white picket fence life. I hope she made you appreciate not being in a fight. I couldn't have been that for you, and I understand. 

It's better this way, you, with her. We both know that when I'm involved, it always ends in a fight. 

I understand, but I can't get over the fact that you actually left. I can't be fixed, I'll never be the Man I was before I fell from the train. I'll never not be a murderer. But I can't help but feel like we could have tried for just a little bit longer. I can't be fixed, but I could have been better. I know if you stayed I would have tried for so much longer. But you were the only one who believed that I could get better, the only one who thought I had a chance of being more than what they made me. Without you here, I don't see the point. Why should I go through this much pain and heartache trying to be someone I can never be if you already accepted that it won't happen? Why should I try? It would be better for everyone if I was gone. 

There are things I need to tell you, Steve. Things you already knew but I never had the courage to say. Even now, I find it hard to write. Steve, I need you to know, that if given the options you were, a long, happy life with a wonderful woman, or being by your side in a thousand bloody battles, I would have ran with you in a heartbeat. I would have gone wherever you went. I would take a thousand years with Hydra if I knew you'd be there to save me at the end. My Line was with you, now I see yours was with her. 

I don't need to ask why, you told me. In everything you said before you left, all the things you didn't, the message was loud and clear. You needed a break. You had seen so much, everything was complicated. Life was unmerciful and you needed to escape.

I was no longer worth it.

I don't remember much from the past, but I know that you fought tooth and nail to get me back. I guess that was before you found out that I couldn't be who I was before. 

Before you realized that I wasn't your pal, your buddy, your Bucky. 

People will rejoice when I am gone. I can see the headlines now, “Deadly Assassin finally pays for crimes”. People will be happy. I haven't made people happy in so long. They don't know that I tried to redeem myself of the atrocious crimes I committed. They won't know that Captain America did anything other than take down this week's big evil. They won't know that everything I did to try and fix myself I did for you. They won't know that everything I had ever worked for left to the past. They won't know.

Maybe that's better, I can finally let people sleep at night knowing that The Winter Soldier is no longer lurking in the shadows. The only person who remembered who I was before was you, and deep down we both knew I would never be Him again. But the thing is, I'll be gone. Everything I was and everything I could have ever been will fade away with me. I won't be there to see all the news reports, or hear the whispers. The only person who could possibly care is you, and you made it very clear how you feel. 

Nat’s gone. She sacrificed herself for the greater good. She won't come back. 

Maybe this can be my sacrifice. I can lay down on the wire, bite the bullet, and people will never have to worry about me coming to get them in the night. 

Sam won't care. He's too busy playing with the shield you gave him. The shield that once upon a time, you were willing to give up for me. What changed? I know she made you happy, but so did I. Or maybe nothing changed, maybe you were chasing the dream of the friend I used to be, and when you found out what a shell I am you took the first opportunity to leave. Maybe I never made you happy. 

That's not true. 

I know I don't remember much, not completely, but I know I used to be able to make you happy. I know I was selfish and naive, especially for a boy in 1930s Brooklyn, but I thought that maybe you were Happy with me. Maybe we could have had a Happy Ending. I remember being so afraid of what you would do if you found out; If you found out I thought that making you smile was the highlight of the day. But with every bad thought I considered you having, I still couldn't help but wonder if maybe that smile held something more than friendly amusement. Wondering if I was making you just a little bit too happy, as if there was something wrong with that. Once upon a time, I thought I could have been enough for you. How pathetic is that? 

I see now that I could never have been enough. I have always been doomed to fall. I fell from the train, I fell from sanity, I fell from everything I used to be and could have been. I fell and I fell and I fell and when I hit rock bottom they ordered me to dig. I fell for you. You didn't notice. Or maybe you did, maybe that's why you dropped your shield. You knew that deep down beneath all the rubble they buried me under, I fell. You knew that I fell hard enough to snap bones and remove limbs, leaving scars that couldn't be erased or faded with time. You knew that no matter what they did to me they couldn't wipe away the damage you had done. 

You knew, and you still left. 

It's not fair to call it damage. If I had a choice, knowing what I know now, I would still choose to fall for you. I would do everything again, because I know at some point, I was able to make you smile. 

That doesn't make now hurt any less. 

Maybe that would've been enough for me, if everything was different, if I didn't fall from the train, if you didn't freeze in the ice, maybe I would have been content with giving it my all to make you smile. Maybe if we had stayed back then, maybe if I hadn't seen what people accept nowadays. I think I would have been fine. I would have kept you in my life, you would have been happy with Peggy. I could have married a girl, had a couple of kids, and dreamed what life would've been like if we were in a different time. I could have kept making you smile. 

But now we have seen a different time, a time where feeling the way I feel for you was normal, and you still went back. 

I don't understand how you can see what tomorrow brings and still choose to live in yesterday. 

Tell me Steve, did you ever think about the fact that I had a family too? I had a Ma and Sisters who needed me. If I didn't fall off the train I could've been there for them. I could have come home. I could have gone back to them too. Did you tell them what happened to me? Did you even talk to them? Will they ever know that I didn't die when I fell? It's probably best that they didn't. I can't imagine how hurt they would be to see what a wreck I've become. 

What would they say if they knew what I had done? 

I had a Family. I had people who needed me and who loved me and probably think I died in some ravine. We both had people we would've liked to see again. The difference is, I wouldn't change the past to do it. They all lived long, happy lives without me. To show them what I've become would be a cruel joke to play. I am not a part of their story anymore. 

I'm better as a memory that makes them smile.

It all comes down to the fact that you got to have a Happy Ending. You got to live a long, uneventful life filled with peace and joy and love and you left me here. You left me without anyone or anything to hold onto. Did you think I would be ok? Did you think I would be fine without the one person who has kept me tethered to reality? I've been on this planet for longer than the average lifespan and the one person who knew what it was like to have everything you know ripped away and to be thrown into a strange new world decided that It was too hard. You went back to the comforts of the past and you left me here to fend for myself. How could this have ended any other way? How did you expect me to live in a world where you weren't by my side? 

Maybe if the fall from the train had killed me I could have been the memory that made you smile. 

If the fall had killed me it would save me from the effort now. 

As much as I need to apologize for all I have put you through, I feel I deserve an apology myself. You abandoned me for some dame you casually flirted with during your time as a dancing monkey. You grieved for her death. You moved on to her niece. Peggy had a happy life with her husband, she had children and grandchildren who loved her. What happened to them, Steve? Did they just get erased from existence because you wanted a Happy Ending? Who did that man go on to marry now that he doesn't have Peggy? What happened to everyone else's Happy Ending? You chose to end your line far away from me for your Happy Ending, mine wasn't important. Did you ever think about theirs?

I don't have another hundred years left in me. I just can't do it. I'm not going to sit here and watch you die from the long life you lived without me. I don't want to see pictures or hear the stories. I can't have another person tell me it was the Happy Ending you deserved. 

You chose to escape to the past, I don't have a time machine. I'm not sure you would want me there spoiling your perfect world anyways. I don't have a time machine, I cant hop back to the 40s where everything is hunky-dory and be who I was. The way I see it, I have two options, I either watch you die and live a pathetic excuse of a life until someone comes and ends it for me, or I can rid the world of the plague that is my existence on my own terms. 

I never hurt anyone again, I don't have to live with the hurt you have left. 

This is my escape. 

I'm sorry I couldn't be enough. 

This is the end of my line.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam takes Bucky to the Hospital, we find out more about "Steve".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I'm so excited about writing this, it has been so fun and its all I can think about doing. I've been busy, so I didn't get to work on this for a couple of days. From what I can tell so far, each chapter will be about 2000 words, so I should be able to post fairly quickly between each chapter. Thank you for reading, feel free to leave a Kudos and Subscribe to keep up with updates if you like it! 
> 
> -Anne

He stepped onto the stool, letter folded neatly on the small end table beside him. Soft music from his past played in the background. His shoulder aches, there was a metal bar forced between the black, gold-rimmed shell of the arm, jamming gears, rendering the whole appendage dead weight. It had taken quite some effort to do that, it had been quite a painful process; the artificial nerves screamed in protest. It didn't matter, he had a high tolerance for pain. Besides, he couldn't risk his body's instinct for survival ruining his plan. 

Images flashed before him, faces. Faces of all the people he had killed. Their screams echoed in his scrambled mind. It only confirmed what needed to be done. 

A softer, kinder face flashed before him. He saw Steve, young, before he was a supersoldier. He was skinny, almost always ill, but he still held a natural glow. He morphed into the eager recruit, the man who didn't like bullies. He was changing faster now, right before his mind's eye. He saw him hopeful and hurt as The Winter Soldier had him pinned. He saw him angry as he dealt with the overbearing government. He saw him filled with righteous fury as he fought for the lives of billions, saw it change to panic and sadness as he faded to dust. He saw him tired on the battlefield, covered in soot and blood. 

He saw him as an old man, covered with wrinkles, a wedding band on his finger. A testament to his choice. 

His eyes filled with tears and his vision blurred. Yes, this was the right decision. 

Using his right arm, he adjusted the rope around his neck, tightening it just a little. A gun would have been too messy, he had seen his fair share of gore, he didn't need to make someone else. Tears streaked his cheeks now. This was it. He took a final, calming breath and kicked the stool from under his feet-- 

And he fell. 

………………………

Sam knocked on the door, once, then twice. He heard the faint sound of 30’s music, muffled by the unopened door. He had brought some soup. It had been three days with Bucky locked in his room, four days since Steve came back finally looking his age. They had left that same day to Sam's family cabin.

Sam understood why Bucky was so eager to leave. It hurt to see Steve so old and frail, and Sam had only known him a few years. He can't imagine how Bucky feels, seeing his best friend of actual decades that way. 

Sam heard a crash, and within moments he had kicked the door in. before him stood Bucky, or rather, hung Bucky. He saw now that the crash had been the small footstool. Frantically, he looked around to find something to cut the rope. On the end table, he saw a small folded note, “Steve”, written neatly on the front. He ignored it, instead ripping the drawer open for scissors, a knife, something, anything to cut the rope. He found a letter opener, not the sharpest, but he didn't have time to run to the kitchen. He quickly turned back towards his hanging friend and righted the stool, stepping up so he could reach the itchy rope. 

His heart was in his ears as he sawed through the last chunk. As soon as it snapped he tossed the dull blade away and grabbed Bucky in an attempt to lessen his fall. He lowered himself and Bucky to the floor, laying him down on his back. With one hand he loosened the remaining rope around his neck and began searching for a pulse, the other digging in his pocket, dialing 9-1-1. 

He did his best to explain the situation calmly, but his worry and panic still seeped through. In what felt like hours, paramedics rushed in, pulled Bucky onto a gurney, and began to steer him out as fast as they came in. Only as they loaded him did he see the small metal bar forced into his mechanical arm. 

He began to follow the Paramedics out of the bedroom and into the main living space when he stopped. Grabbing the note, he shoved it in his back pocket and quickly followed after them, climbing into the back of the ambulance, mentally preparing for the most stressful ride in his life. 

…………..

Bucky lays on a bed in the ICU. Even with his serum working, his neck is still deep shades of purple and blue. He has to call Fury, it's not safe for Bucky here. Sooner or later someone will recognize his face from the old news reports. Luckily, he didn't have the trademark silver arm anymore, but the advancement of his black one will still be hard to explain, should someone ask. People will realize that The Winter Soldier is in their care, and they'll want to turn him into the government, or worse, take matters into their own hands and finish what he started. 

He is just about to call when he remembers the note in his pocket. Stowing his phone, he pulls out the neat square, takes a deep breath and unfolds it. 

“You once told me I was worth it. 

You told me you would be with me at the end of the line. 

But, I guess things change.”

Sam can't believe what he's reading, how could he not have seen it? He should have checked on Bucky sooner. He should have made him talk. Years of working at the VA came back to him full force. The things Bucky was saying, this wasn't something that happened all because of Steve. This was a soldier living with the guilt of betraying his country. This was a man coping with killing hundreds of people who likely didn't deserve it. This was someone who had done so much he believed he was irredeemable. He was grieving with the fact that he would never live his old life again. Bucky felt so displaced in this world, he was so lost, and Steve left him. Steve knew that Bucky felt like this. How could Steve leave without warning someone? How could Steve leave?

Bucky was never Sam's Best friend. They argued, and half of the things Bucky said--says annoys him to no bounds, but he was a friend. Bucky doesn't deserve to feel this way, no one does. Steve compounded everything Bucky had likely told him by leaving. Steve pushed him past his breaking point. Sam was furious. 

The call to Fury forgotten, Sam pulls out his phone and dials Steves number, hoping that the old man had kept it. Against all odds, Steve picks up, his voice far more gravelly than when he was young, not even a week ago.

“Oh, Hello Sam. What can I do fo--”

“How could you leave?” Sam questioned, voice tight. He spared a glance at his unconscious friend, quickly looking away. He didn't want to see him like this. 

“Sam, I've told you, I needed a break. I didn't want to have to fight anymore. What brought this up? I thought you were happy for me.” The Ex-Captain said. 

“And Bucky? What about him? Did he get a choice to ‘take a break’?” His tone was clipped, bordering hostel. 

“Now Sam I don't see what he has to do with thi--” Sam cut him off. 

“Cut the shit, Rogers. You know exactly what he has to do with this. Do you know what he tried to do? Do you know how close he was to succeeding? He hung himself, Steve. Left a note explaining everything. You need to get over here now. I'm calling Fury to have him transferred to the Shield hospital in New York, the same place you were at when they first thawed you out. Hopefully, we will be there by tomorrow morni--”

It was Steve's turn to cut him off. “I'm not going to see him.”

Sam paused. “Your what…?” He must have misheard. 

“I said, I'm not going to see him.” He said coldly, matching Sams' original clipped tone. 

This was not happening. Any facade of civility has been torn away, leaving only the righteous fury he felt when he first read the Letter. But, before he can even start to reply, Steve is talking again. 

“I'm sure the Letter explained some of why I wouldn't want to see him. If you have more questions, you can ask Bucky-- if he wakes up. Now, I really am very busy, so if you don't mind--” And he hangs up. 

Sam stands in the middle of the hospital room, phone stuck to his ear. He didn't remember getting up. He turns at the quietest of sniffles. 

Bucky sits up slightly in his bed, hospital gown loose of his shoulders. Tears stream down one of his cheeks, the other bright red from where he must have wiped it. 

“He's not coming.” It wasn't a question. 

“How much did you hear?” Sam had turned to him fully now, phone absently hanging in his left arm. 

“I heard enough. Super Soldier, remember? Comes with all the perks, including hearing things you don't want to.” Bucky's voice was strained, from both emotion and the damage taken during his attempt. The tears continue to fall, he makes no effort to clear them. He's just too tired. “Why did you save me?” 

“Why wouldn't I? You may annoy me to no end, but I couldn't just let you die.” He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “I read the note. I know what you are feeling, but this isn't the ans--” He is yet again cut off, only this time by Bucky. 

“No.” He practically seethes, only to wince at the strain. “No, Sam, you don't know ‘how I'm feeling’. You shouldn't have saved me. You shouldn't have called Steve. He made his choice clear, I would think I made mine. Just-just go. I don't want to be awake.” Grunting, he turns onto his good side, facing away from Sam. He was still crying. 

Sam lets out a breath and steps into the hall, letting the door click behind him. He should tell someone Bucky woke up, but neither he nor Bucky want to talk to anyone. He was shocked to hear Bucky talk like that, it's one thing to read what someone was thinking without them intending for you to ever find out what they wrote, but it's another to hear someone say things like that out loud. He will think about Steve later, he still has to get Bucky somewhere safe. 

Retrieving his phone, he dials Nick Fury's office. 

……………….

Steve can't believe the plan was already working. His leader had told him how attached Bucky and Steve were to each other, but it hasn't even been a week and already one of the best assassins was trying to end himself. This was so easy. 

People can be so naive. Anyone who has ever met Steve Rogers in this future world should have known that he would never leave his pal, his buddy. You would think that someone would see the way he looked at him, but alas, Captain America was so lovelorn and heartbroken over his blast from the past that they didn't even bat an eye when he suddenly wished to go back. 

But oh, the mighty Winter Soldier also looked at his pal like he hung the stars. Must be a deep, platonic bond. Normal people really are so stupid. It's a good thing they switched him for the hero when they did, if they had taken the risk and done it after all the messy work was done, lover boy with the metal arm would have told the Real Steve the truth. Poor sap would have combusted, they could have run off to God knows where, it would have been so much more complicated. 

At first, his orders were to retrieve the stones, deliver them to his leader and voila, mission accomplished. Unfortunately, that meant he had to go and get the stones with the Avengers. What was left of them, anyway. But it's not like he wasn't enhanced. Then, hours before he was set to deliver the stones “to their original timelines”, the head office sent him a little message telling him he needed to tell Barnes about his plan to stay in the past. Someone had to know, it wouldn't be believable if he just did it. And when he begged him to stay? He made it his side goal to destroy him. Come on, this sniffling mess was the best assassin they once had to offer? He was pathetic. 

He knew he would be stuck playing the old man for a while after his grand return, thanks to the facial software, he got to switch his young Steve face for a fresh, old Steve face. It's not even new, hell, Natasha Romanoff used it a few years back to play at being some old hag in power. Nearly got one of the higher-ups, but Fury is the one who actually took him out. That was when the asset was still in their control. The point is, if he was going to be stuck as America's Golden boy, he would have some fun. 

Barnes did not hold out as long as he could have. Maybe he will go visit him. He is supposed to keep a low profile until he ‘Dies of old age’, but what is one visit to watch him squirm? It's not like he would ever try to hurt him. He loves me too much. 

Pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, yup. I don't like doing this to Bucky, but hey, will it be ok if I promise a happy ending? Freaking Steve made me mad to write. I triggered Luna (You should check out her Irondad Letter too, same account!) Please feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think! I'm still not sure about writing fics, but I've had fun so far. I don't think it's awful... But yeah, thank you for reading, I hope this made some sense? 
> 
> -Anne


	3. Part 3: The day before he left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback of the conversation between Bucky and Steve when Steve told him he was leaving to the past, along with the days leading up to Bucky trying to kill himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, first off, thank you so much for all the people who subscribed to this story, I tried to get this done extra fast for everyone. That being said, I couldn't find a way to make this better, so I think it's ready. "Steve" really ticked me off in this one. I'm sorry I keep making Bucky cry.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Anne

The night before Tony Starks Funeral and the Return of the Stones

The air was chilly. There was a timid sense of victory that they had saved the world, overshadowed by the fact that they lost major parts of theirs to do it. The most major losses hit them like waves, constant, cold, and unforgiving.

Nat was gone, she made the sacrifice that allowed any of them a chance. Natasha and Bucky were not close by normal standards, but in the limited time he had spent in her company while in his right mind (as right as it could be), they had a special bond. Never spoken, only a peaceful understanding; An understanding that they had both done things they weren't proud of, and that they were trying to be better. Maybe they could be better. The only other person who she shared a special bond with was Clint, and while everyone had a great deal of sadness for her loss, he wasn't taking it well. 

Tony's death was just as shocking, and while not everyone liked Stark, everyone felt a deep level of respect for him. He had done the dirty work, and it killed him. People would be safe now, he just wouldn't be around to see it. Among the people who took his death the hardest were Pepper, Peter, Happy and Rhodey. Morgan was too young to understand, she just knew her father wouldn't come back. One day she would learn of the sacrifice her father made. Bucky also grieved heavily for him, though. He had killed his parents, he had caused a rift between him and Steve, and Stark had still died for him. He had died for everyone, the sinners and the saints, his family, strangers, and the unforgivable people like him. Why should someone like Tony be dead when someone like him gets to live? Bucky had no life, no family, he should be dead, not Nat or Stark. 

“Hey Buck, I need to speak with you.” 

Steve.

Steve's voice cleared out the thoughts, he always had perfect timing. The thoughts were a dangerous thing to follow. Forget what his mind told him before, he did have one person, Steve was still with him. Everything would be fine if Steve was by his side. 

“Yeah, OK.”

They set off down the path towards the lake, easily falling into each other’s pace. They stayed in somewhat comfortable silence. When was the last time they had done something so peaceful together? For Steve, it would have been at least five years, for Bucky? A little over a week, back in Wakanda. Before the battle. It felt like a thousand years ago. Bucky suddenly wanted to know everything Steve had done when he was gone. 

They slowed down as they neared the edge of the water. Steve walked ahead, moving to sit at the bench. He was walking differently, and his shoulders were tight. Bucky ignored this, assuming he could chalk it up to five extra years and the exhaustion most stressful battle either of them had ever been in. 

Bucky went to sit next to him, and only when he was settled did Steve begin to talk. 

“I'm returning the Stones tomorrow after the memorial.” His tone was flat and even. 

“I know.” He said nonchalantly, he was there when Steve volunteered. Always the hero. 

“I'm not coming back.” He kept his eyes straight forward, staring at the sunset over the lake. Bucky's heart stopped before kicking back up to overdrive a moment later. 

A beat of silence.

“What do you mean?” Bucky tried to keep the rising panic from his voice, but it still came through. He sounded like someone pointed a gun to his chest and he was unable to do anything about it but stare dumbly at the perpetrator. In a way, it was exactly what was happening.  
.   
“I'm not coming back, I'm using my last trip to go back to Peggy, to the ’40s. I'm going to live my life with her far away from all of this mess of the future.” 

He was backed against a wall. The gun was loaded, aimed directly at his heart. His fight or flight instinct was kicking in. He couldn't run from this, if he did, Steve would be gone forever. He had to fight. 

“Steve you can't be serious. You're just going to leave? Just like that?” He paused for his response, hoping this was all some sort of sick joke. 

No such luck.

“I'm not happy here Bucky. This isn't the place for me.” Steve's voice was still unchanged. As if he hadn't dropped the biggest bomb on Bucky.

“You can’t be serious. What about everyone here? What about us? This isn’t something you can just-- come back from if you change your mind!”

“I’ve thought about this for a long time. My life here isn’t what I want. I won’t change my mind.”

“You can't just leave like this! I just got back! Is five years really enough to make you forget about everyone? We won, we don't have to fight anymore-- you don't have to go to the past to retire! You- you don't have to go.” His words were rushed, frantic, fading into something so meek he didn't recognize it as his own voice. “Please don't leave me.”

“Because I couldn't possibly live my life without you?” He had finally turned towards Bucky, his voice changing into something even colder. “I can’t exactly live a happy life with a wife and home if the woman I love is already dead.”

Tears pricked at his eyes, he wouldn't let them fall. Not yet.

“What about me?” What am I supposed to do?” Bucky was starting to sound desperate.

“You’ll be fine. You have Sam. I know you aren’t the closest of friends, but he will need you too.” 

“But I need you, Steve. I-I,” It was now or never. He had one chance to make him stay. “I love you, Stevie. Don't go.” 

Steve's eyes lit up, Bucky held his breath. 

And Steve laughed. 

The world stopped spinning and crashed down on the one-armed man. A lone tear streaked his left cheek. He was wide-eyed and still. Not too long ago, Steves’s laugh was music to his ears. He has done so much to hear him laugh in the past, now it burned. Bucky felt sick.

“Oh, this is just so perfect,” Steve mumbled. Speaking louder, looking Bucky in the eyes, he continued. “Did you really think that would make me stay? That we would-- what, run away together? The Winter Soldier and Captain America--why would I go with someone who has done what you have done? It wouldn’t be a peaceful life, constantly on the run, hiding our faces wherever we went. I’ve been a fugitive, I’m done. Look, I'm going. I'm going to leave the Shield with Sam. You are going to give him your blessing. I think I should go.” Steve turned to him one final time. “Don't tell anyone about this. As far as they are concerned, you are happy I get to live my life with Peggy. I don't want people to know you thought about me like that. Understood? Good.”

Without waiting for any response from the broken man before him, he turned his back and started up the hill. 

Bucky couldn't just let him leave. He turned and shouted: “You told me you'd be with me to the end of the line!”

A pause.

“I guess things change.” 

Steve pulled the trigger, shattering his already damaged heart, and he was gone. 

Bucky stayed seated at the bench for hours after that, silently letting his tears fall. 

……………….

The next morning, Bucky did his best not to break down. He knew it was coming, Steve was going to leave. He knew how he felt and he was still leaving. Of all the half baked scenarios of failure he had imagined, none of them hurt this bad. 

He didn’t have time to think about it now. He had to put all of his energy into not screaming, running, and crying as Steve spoke to Bruce. Then he turned to him, and Bucky almost lost it. He walked towards him and stopped a respectable distance away. To anyone else, Steve’s face would look serious, determined, resolute and a number of other heroic adjectives, but to Bucky, he looked angry. His once soft, kind face was morphed into something he barely recognized. His soft, pink lips were pulled down in a subtle frown, his once bright, joyous eyes were dull and unforgiving. He smiled, it looked off. Forced. 

He was disgusted.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” A twist of the knife. Bucky didn’t want his last memory of him before the serum tainted with this moment. Too late now. 

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Smiling hurts. Steve stepped forward and did the pettiest thing Bucky had ever experienced; He pulled him into a hug. Bucky let his smile drop, how could Steve do this? A part of him was so insulted that Steve thought he could even look at Bucky after what he said, but mostly, he never wanted Steve to let go. 

It didn’t matter, Steve ended the hug. One more small smile from Bucky, it felt more like a grimace.

One more try. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy.” Barely a whisper. He knows what it means. 

“Its gonna be OK, Buck.” Bucky smiled softly. A lie. 

He watched as his Best Friend stepped onto the pad, a quick nod to Banner. It was time. 

Five seconds. He didn’t come back. 

An old man sat on the park bench, the same one he had told Bucky his plan on. The memory was still fresh. His heart broke a little more with each passing second. 

Sam moved forward, Bucky stayed back. This was their moment. Bucky was not wanted there.

The gold ring reflected the light, Bucky looked down. 

Sam looked back to Bucky, who nodded. It was all the blessing needed. His job was done. He had done as Steve asked. He needed to leave. 

So they did. 

………………

The first night at the cabin he slept longer than he had in years. 

……………..

The first day after the funeral, he lay awake in bed, reliving every moment he could remember with Steve. He didn’t know which hurt most, the final hours with him, or the happy memories, knowing what was to come. 

Everything was not fine, it was not OK. Steve was no longer by his side. 

He didn’t want to be awake. He couldn’t sleep. 

There was a nagging in the back of his mind, telling him there was one way he could rest. That the world would be a better place without him in it. He would be doing everyone a favor. No one would miss him. 

It would be so easy. 

There was no one there with him to stop the thoughts. 

………......

On the second day at the Cabin, he cycled through three primary reactions. 

He would get angry. He would sit and fume, glaring a hole into the wall, thinking about all that Steve had done to hurt him. 

He would allow the sadness to take over. He would cry, pull his hair, shake. It was hard to breathe. He was drowning.

He would stare blankly, vacant. Hollow. He would lose himself in the void. Being numb was better than feeling the way he felt. 

The thoughts continued to spiral out of control, pointing in one direction. 

…………..  
On the morning of day three, he put on some music of the past, soft and slow, and got out a pen and paper. 

He folded the letter and placed it on the bedside table. He found a small metal bar, a file of some kind, and began the hard part. He used his belt to bite down on, muffling any sounds of protest he would make, and forced the small bar between the seams of his arm. 

It needed to be done, should he start to panic before he is gone, his metal arm could easily pull him free. 

He couldn’t let that happen. 

No backing out now.

He stepped onto the stool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next chapter planned out! I hope this was ok, I wasn't 110% sure about Steves conversation with Bucky, but hey, I think it turned out pretty good. I don't know. Anywho~ Thanks for reading, be sure to subscribe to keep up with updates! Comments would be great! If you have any questions, go for it! Have a great time, whenever you are reading this
> 
> -Anne


	4. Part 4: Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see the real Steve, Yay! But not really yay, poor Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to post this like three-ish hours ago but it was just a copy of the last chapter, oops. heh, yeah so this is the ~actual~ thing. I have decided that I am going to just write this, then one day I can try and make it better (I know this is far from perfect, lol). Thank you to those who have waited and put up with me! Updates are probably going to still be a while but I know where I want this to go and I do really enjoy writing this. Thanks for reading!

Pain.

Pain is the first thing that Steve Rogers is aware of. His head feels like someone rammed a railroad spike through it. His hair and neck are wet and warm. He feels the sensation of thick liquid slowly creeping down and around towards his collarbone and chest. His neck is sore. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders how long he has had his head hanging like this, chin to chest. 

He can’t open his eyes. His eyelids are crusty and so heavy. Maybe he could just go back to sleep for a little while…

Then he remembers what happened before he woke up. 

Panic surges through the Super Soldier as he becomes aware of where he is, or rather, where he isn’t. His head whips up to try and take in his surroundings. Bad move, his vision blurs around the edges and he can’t suppress the groan that climbs the back of his throat. This also hurts, his throat his dry and he wonders when the last time he drank anything, let alone _water_. It takes about a minute for his eyes to clear, but the pounding in his head remains. 

Things slip into place as he catalogs his surroundings. He was in his apartment before he woke up. 

He was no longer in his apartment, his mind helpfully supplied. 

No, instead he was in the center of a large room. Massive windows covering an entire wall reveal a jagged, snow-covered rock edge. A spark of recognition floats before him, but before he has time to latch on to where he could be someone clears their throat behind him. 

Steve is suddenly very aware that his arms are bound to the arms of his chair, and he isn’t alone. 

“A symbol to the Nation, a hero to the world.” Steve cant see behind him, the man continues. “The story of Captain America is one of Honor,”

“Who are you!?” Steve yells, but his throat is raw from dehydration and disuse, it comes out as more of a rasp. The man doesn’t even pause. 

“Bravery, and Sacrifice.” The man takes slow, measured steps, circling Rogers until he stands in front of him, just out of reach. Not that Steve was in the position to be reaching for anything. Steve continues to struggle against his bonds, looking at the mystery man. “Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare.”

It clicks then, this mystery person was reciting the museum speech for his exhibit. Steve was chained up, bleeding from his head, with a mystery villain reciting his story from memory. Not good. 

He tuned out the rambling of the madman and wrestled with his chains more. He was a Super Soldier, why couldn’t he break free?! He pointedly ignores images of some of his worst binges, memories of his nights without sleep, and overall lack of concern for his wellbeing over the past five years. 

The man stepped closer, reaching his arm out and grabbing Steve’s chin. With renewed passion, the man continued, grip on his chin never wavering, hard enough to bruise. It wouldn’t last, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “One that would transform him into the world’s first Super Soldier.” He practically spits the last words, and Steve wishes he could move for multiple reasons. 

For just a moment, he closes his eyes and remembers the many times he had gone to the museum, hearing this speech and grieving for people long gone. Then he remembers how Bucky wasn't gone and how he was getting _better_ but then he was really, really gone _again_ and it's _too much--_

A hard slap to the cheek pulls him from his spiral. Instead of relief, he is brought back to his current situation, which doesn’t help calm him down. The man has stopped his speech, mouth clamped shut, and pulled into a sneer instead. 

“Steven, you remember the Snap, correct?” His voice is hard as ice, obviously hating this as much as Steve. “Of course you do. Now, I will not sugar coat this for you. We are going to fix it. This does not mean it will be a pleasant experience for you, but it is in everyone’s best interest that you just sit here and let us do what we need to do, alright? Good. Steven?” 

And before Steve has time to unpack what any of that meant, a tall, blonde man wearing combat gear and boots and _his face_ steps into view and holy _sh--_

Someone else hits the back of his head and the pain stays as he sleeps. 

\----------

Steve wakes up. He has no idea how long he slept, but through his sleep, his mind stopped pounding. Whatever gash he had on the back of his head has long since healed, leaving only dried blood in its wake. He takes a moment to gauge his surroundings, focusing on small details so he has time to process everything. His arms and shoulders are pinned down with thick, heavy-duty metal. In his right forearm, is a needle connected to a bag of clear liquid. An Iv drip, most likely. He has a feeling he has seen the shackles before. He is still in his clothes from home, a maroon, long-sleeved henley ~~Bucky's old shirt~~ , and a pair of jeans. His shoes are gone, but luckily they left his socks. Turning his head, he sees a metal frame with a small slot along its entirety, thick enough for a sheet of heavy-duty glass. The frame makes a cube around his space, and its only when he thinks of the glass that should be there he realizes this is the chair Bucky had been held in with shield. _And oh this is not pleasant_.

Ignoring the spike in his heart rate the thought of Bucky in chairs, he looks to the window to try and remember if he really does know the view. After a few moments, he imagines a group of soldier bursting through and it clicks. This is Schmits’s base. This is the base where he was “captured” by Hydra, his men came through _those windows._ This was his final mission before he brought down the Valkyrie. 

His men weren’t coming this time. 

Overwhelmed and still healing, he sleeps. 

\-----------

Days turn to weeks. Most of the time, he stares out the wall of windows reliving everything through his memories, haunted by good and bad. Nothing changes, they have an Iv in his arm filled with what he assumes is the bare minimum of nutrients to keep him from starvation that gets refilled when he sleeps. He doesn’t see the man or the other Steve, and he doesn’t see whoever keeps this place running. They turned off the heat, and despite his above-average temperature, he is cold. He is always cold. The overhead light stays on, no matter what time of day. His only clue for time being the wall of windows that seem to glow with the sunlight reflecting off the snow.

One day, they start to play a tape, sound surrounding him. 

“I'm returning the Stones tomorrow after the memorial.” His voice, but it's not _him._

“I know.” Bucky. Oh, Oh God Bucky is back. A brief flash of joy surges through him, thinking _they won_ and _Bucky is back_ , before he realizes that Bucky is with _The Other Steve._

Oh no. 

He panics more and more as the conversation between Bucky and this Imposter plays above him. He tugs and shifts in his restraints, wanting to escape more than ever, to see Bucky, to prove he wasn’t saying these things and to show him he is still here. Hold him and finally tell him--

“I love you, Stevie. Don't go.” He holds his breath, unable to grasp what has just been said. By Bucky. The Bucky who was _back_ and _alive_ and with this _fake_. He waits for the reply for what seems like forever, fleetingly, he wishes it was a video, so he could see what they were doing. Were they sitting or standing? Facing each other, side by side? Does Bucky look the same as he did five years ago? Did he reach for FakeSteve? The silence goes on forever and his thoughts raced faster than he could process them. Then, finally, it is broken. 

By laughter. By _Steve's_ laughter, by _his laughter._ The only thing he can think is a constant loop of _Oh God I’m going to be sick_ and _no no nononono please NO._

Not-Steve continues to talk, each word more bitter and cold than the last. In one final attempt to make _him_ stay, Bucky shouts the most heart-wrenching thing he could. 

“You told me you'd be with me to the end of the line!” 

It's nothing compared to the ice that followed. 

“I guess things change.” 

Steve hears gravel crunching as his tears fall, and his brain helpfully connects that it is the sound of the Imposter walking away, leaving Bucky behind him. He can only assume Bucky has been left alone. 

He cries, and the audio plays again. 

And again. 

\-----------

They kept it playing for four days. 

Then they paused it long enough to tell him the news and play a phone call. 

\----------

On the fifth day, they read him a copy of the Letter.

\----------

On the seventh day, they played him a new recording from the hospital. 

\----------

He sleeps. He cries. 

He starts getting thoughts of his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if this makes zero sense. Thank you for putting up with me, I hope you enjoyed this :)


End file.
